


the fire at the heart of the world

by rikiyuu



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Development, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, eventually at least - Freeform, i wrote cullen as being rlly sweet and supportive i hope you all like that, in certain parts but for the most part its pretty canon compliant, many headcanons ahead as usual, theres a lot of talking and dialogue but thats just my writing style aha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:47:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22248865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rikiyuu/pseuds/rikiyuu
Summary: The commander walked with attentiveness, holding Roxanne like a prized object, a fragile ornament that would shatter at the slightest touch. And she was—she was the Inquisition’s most prized object; their light at the end of the tunnel. The gear that shifted the whole organization into place, that kept it running smoothly and without worry. A strong, sturdy, consistent reminder of what they had done so far, of all they have accomplished.And of what they yet have to do.[ An exploration of conversations, relationships and everything in between from headacanons that came to mind while playing the game for the first time. I hope you enjoy! ]
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Kudos: 6





	1. i shall weather the storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A story in which I explore conversations and headcanons I've developed since I started playing this game for the first time at the beginning of the month. If you've come from my previous fic for Poe2, then you'll probably know what to expect.
> 
> Otherwise, please do enjoy as I play with the characters and develop their interpersonal relationships more than what the game offers us: lots of conversations between characters, exploring quests and character thoughts and the like. Do note that my Inquisitor is not an inherently confident lady- she's a very flawed character that developed as I played the game and thought a lot about the situation and everything...I hope you like her! <3

Her body felt like a limp pile of flesh, sewn together by loose joints and limbs that somehow formed her and weighed down in what she _assumed_ was a cot. Cassandra’s eyes fluttered open, the rising wash of pain entering her body as she returned to the world of the living. The ceiling was a familiar beige—a tent she’s spent her fair share of nights in when out scouting and exploring with her companions. It was certainly not where she expected to wake up, and especially not in this weird amount of pain she was in. The knight tried to wiggle her body, hoping to wake up the rest of her and was greeted with a tingling, numb sensation of every limb in her body having been asleep for Maker knows how long. She slowly gathered her energy and craned her neck to her left.

Vivienne; the undeniable twisted horns that made her favored helm sat on the snow beside her cot. Herself; chest slowly rising in steady motions. She looked like she was sleeping and had a serene look on her face. She didn’t look like she was bruised or injured from what could be seen of the her. Cassandra moved her neck to the right now—slowly, but more confident. The pain was still there but, faint.

Varric; he was sat up on the cot, hands rubbing the back of his head. Himself; well, safe to say he looked like he had been run over by a stampede. No scars from what she could see at the very least, but by the Maker was he covered in a few deep, purple bruises. Bianca was neatly tucked underneath the cot—thankfully it didn’t look like it was scuffed up either lest the dwarf would be rousing a fit that there would be no end to. His eyes caught Cassandra’s and he gave a weak, pained smile at her.

“Glad to see you made it.” His voice was low, husked. She nodded in response, wincing as she tried to rotate her joints into motion. She let out a groan of pain, feeling another wave of it washing over her. Varric chuckled at her reaction. “Or…sort of.”

At least it looked like someone was having fun.

With a resounding grunt Cassandra pulled all the strength in her body and jolted upwards, doing her best to hold in the obvious discomfort and pain she had just put onto herself with an immediate bite to the lip. Blood rushed and coursed through her veins; the numbness of joints that had fallen asleep sending jolts of tingles across her skin. She let out low groans and moans through gritted teeth, trying not to disturb Vivienne from her beauty rest. How long were the three of them out for? She stared out to the view on front of her through the open slit of the tent: a vast sea of snow, a scene disrupted only by the various amounts of tents that were set up around a large open fire. The knight touched her forehead and sighed.

“Do you remember what happened?” Varric’s voice rang out and interrupted her thoughts (not that they truly even sorted themselves out). Her dark brown eyes homed in on her companion as her thoughts redirected themselves to her memories.

Cassandra remembered the mountains. She remembered that they were a light with a marching army of templars, corrupted and mutated from the red lyrium that seemed to… _emerge_ from their bodies. Horrible, disgusting creatures that held nothing in their minds but bloodlust. She was sure they were good men once but now—now they were something corrupt, something horrendously evil.

But no, there was something more. She pressed her forehead against her knuckle, eyes pressed closed as she tried to remember. There was a trebuchet creaking, rotating into place. The crackle of Vivienne’s magic as it ripped enemies asunder. The reverb of Bianca’s string as a bolt ricocheting into putrid flesh. Her shield lifted, slamming into enemies to keep them away from…from—

Then there was a noise, the trebuchet firing into the mountain, the distant roar of an avalanche. Stillness, peace. Then…

A dragon. Yes, yes, she was sure of that. A horrible, magnificent sight as it roared and screamed and tossed fire to them. She was pushed down to the ground by warm, familiar hands. A force that was hard enough to toss her to the ground yet knew where to push against her shield to make sure she didn’t bruise against the clang of metal to her back. Snow brushed her face, Varric’s hand pulling her wrist and dragging her away; there was stumbling as her legs scrambled to move and catch up to the events that just occurred. Cassandra looked back (but Vivienne told her not to do that). And she saw a distorted figure reach out, grabbed, lifted—

The Inquisitor.

Her lungs caught up to her thoughts as her breath hitched, eyes wide open and looking around the camp from the small open slit in the tent once more. Varric could see the worry and reached out to her, a gentle hand against her shoulder as he tried to bring her back to reality.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s gonna be alright Cass—”

“Where is the Inquisitor, Varric?” She planted her legs on the ground and winced again, sucking in breath as she slowly began standing and hobbling towards the entrance to the tent. Her companion followed suit as he continued to try and plead with Cassandra to get her to go back to resting. But the knight wasn’t in that kind of mood at the moment. She was sore, confused, and missing one familiar face by her side that’s been there since they were brought to Haven.

“Come on, Seeker. You need to get some rest!”

Cassandra continued to ignore her companion and moved the flap to the tent as she stepped out into the cold. She was immediately greeted by a rush of welcoming warmth from a large booming fire in the center of the camp. Her eyes scanned the area around the fire, taking in the sights. A few dozen tents were set up around the fire, a few of the refugees were huddled in conversation, in tight hugs, on the floor crying, coming in and out of tents…It was bustling, but not in the way that a small collection of people should be bustling. Unease set into Cassandra’s stomach as her eyes found no sight of the Inquisitor—but she did at least find the collective trio of the Inquisitor’s advisors. She walked around the fire and towards them, their figures and faces coming closer to view. They looked stressed, anxious, _tired_. Josephine noticed her arrival, the usual perky and excited advisor busy biting her nails.

“Cassandra—it’s good to see you’ve recovered.” Her voice was dry and croaked—like she was about ready to burst into tears at any given moment. She looked over to Varric and nodded the sentiment to him as well. “Is Vivienne still sleeping…?”

Cassandra nodded. “I imagine she drained herself with all the magic she had to cast against the templars. She gave them quite a beating.”

“Good. Good.” Josephine let out a small sigh of relief. It looked like she desperately needed to hear some good news, to know that at least another companion still lives.

Silence fell between the five of them, and Cassandra spoke again.

“Where’s the Inquisitor?”

And then the silence lingered. The advisors looked away.

“We do not know. We saw the dragon, saw the avalanche cover Haven and…” Cullen spoke up, a gloved hand running along his chin. There was a careful consideration to his words, lingering his eyes on her to gauge Cassandra’s reaction with every syllable that left his mouth. “We intended to send scouts, but there has been a blizzard pelting us for the past few hours—it’s only recently subsided. We’ll gather our troops and plan out a rescue plan.”

Cassandra nodded. It would have to do for an answer—not that she was really in any position to argue or do anything on her own, not when she still felt heavy and sore. Her eyes flickered to the dark sky above; a clustered ocean of stars hung above them, a weirdly serene scene considering the gravity of the situation. Were the air not thick with despair and somberness, it would be a pretty sight. Instead, all that lies in the hearts and thoughts of all that remained was the scene at Haven—with the lyrium infected templars assaulting their keep and razing it to the ground. It was by the Maker’s grace that they were able to save all the people that they did, with the Inquisitor putting her life on the line to run about and save everyone that she could. Her selflessness saved a lot of people, and Cassandra was starting to realize she was one of those fortunate enough to be here.

But not Roxanne. She was somewhere, out there.

‘ _She yet lives. I know it.’_

A scout approached them, looking worse for wear. His voice betrays the lines and creases of worry and stress on his face.

“Commander Cullen.”

The commander gestured for the scout to speak.

“We’ve done a preliminary count—no life-threatening injuries, but we’ve about exhausted all our supplies of Elfroot. Our healers will manage, but we would need to consider scavenging for supplies in the morning to prevent any further harm to those who survive.”

Josephine sucked in a heavy breath, and Cassandra could see the intense force of her teeth against her nail. The knight prayed that the advisor would not rip it from her finger.

“Furthermore…it seems that the blizzard has moved south and has passed us for now. But so far there have been no signs of the Inquisitor.” A frown pulled on the scout’s face, as if he himself didn’t want to believe the information that he relayed. Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, while another tightened on the hilt of his sword. The scout spoke again. “I can rally those that still have energy to do a deeper search at your order.”

Cullen waved his hand, dismissing the thought. “We will not expend the energy of our scouts when so many are injured and tired. We will come up with another solution—dismissed.”

The scout saluted and gave a small bow before retreating from the cluster. The group stood there deep in thought, attempting to plan out their next move with the now _very_ limited sources of people and goods at their disposal. Right now, they had to prioritize trying to find the Inquisitor. Without her, this whole operation of theirs would just crumple into the dust, and the past few months would be all for naught. It was a harrowing thought, truly—to know that their shared time and dedication to the cause would just dissolve overnight without one person. But Roxanne has become a rallying cause of hope for the people in Thedas, and more so for the people that had resided in Haven; her unknown whereabouts have most certainly drained the people of hope for the most part—but Cassandra would not relent so easily. They would need to bring the knight her leader’s cold, dead body before she would believe the Inquisitor as good as dead.

“We should discuss our next move.” A voice caught the groups attention, and the seated figure rose from her position on the ground. Leliana was so perfectly still that the knight didn’t even recognize that she was sitting there this entire time- fitting for a spymaster, one could say. She wiped the small remaining clumps of snow from her purple robe and crossed her arms. Her posture exuded confidence, but it was obvious from the dark haze that clouded her eyes that she too was at a loss for words. “We need to find the Inquisitor, and it looks like it will be all on us.”

“I take it you have a plan?” Varric’s eyes stared into Leliana’s, gauging her, trying to read the expression that hid underneath the hood.

“It’s coming together slowly.” Leliana crossed her arms, eyes sweeping the snowy ground as she seemed to zone in and out of thought. The warm light of the fire illuminated her face enough for Cassandra to see the exhaustion that the advisor wore, and it was obvious that she wasn’t going to get a good night of sleep until they found the Inquisitor. Leliana brushed a hand through her auburn hair and sighed, looking up at her companions around her and speaking once more. “It’ll be the pinnacle of night soon, we ought to get out there as soon as we can, lest Roxanne freezes to death.”

* * *

The snow was an unrelenting force that whipped and clashed against Roxanne’s body, her face stinging red from the lack of protection as she trudged her body through the hazy white lands in front of her. Her clothes were slick and wet from the slaps of snow that remained and seeped into the fibers, freezing her to the core. She tried to ignore the cold that was sinking into her body, and just how obnoxiously wet and gross she was feeling. She had no idea how she was moving, _why_ she was still moving—in truth, she had expected herself to fall over dead the second her body fell and slammed into the cave. It was by Andraste’s blessing that she was still alive, surely that was it. Why else would She do all this to keep Roxanne alive? Was it not by Her will and the Maker’s will that they figured her worthy enough to continue walking these lands? Roxanne would never question the wills of those above her, but even she was having some doubts about the miraculous nature of her survival.

Of course, she should have just stayed in the cave, could have let the spiders eat her alive and leave her corpse there to rest for all eternity, undisturbed by all. It would be nice for her life to come to a dreadful end, to have the responsibility that was burdened on her to be taken by someone more capable, more willing and able than she ever was. But that would mean the Inquisition would…

No, now was not the time for self-doubt, for intrusive thoughts to take over. She was given a chance to live and she would not be ungrateful to the Maker. Despite the fear that was rattling and shaking her core Roxanne _knew_ that she had to make her way back to those that survived the attack in Haven. Surely, they were somewhere close by- the mountains couldn't possible be that vast and large. They couldn’t have gotten that far, even with the distraction she gave them by putting herself, Cassandra, Varric, and Vivienne into the fray. Andraste preserve her, please let her companions at least be safe and sound. They really didn’t have to come with her to the trebuchet—she really did mean it when she told Cullen she would give herself up to Corypheus since it was apparently what he was after. But, no, her friends were _really_ set on providing backup for her—she would sigh if she could, but her lungs were already feeling the intense weight and pressure of cold, snowy slaps against her body. As far as she was concerned, the only breathing she ought to be doing was the kind that kept her alive and going.

And going she did—forced every limb in her body to press forward, ignoring the pain, the tight muscles, the heavy feeling that weighed on her shoulders as she kept her hands up to clear her vision. Her body was screaming, begging for a few minutes rest so that it didn’t feel like she was on the verge of collapsing. But she knew, knew that the second she stopped to rest she would fall asleep—and the last thing she wanted was to fall asleep in the middle of this frozen snowscape, as tempting as the idea was.

Roxanne trudged forward for what seemed like an eternity, walking towards what seemed like a boundless blizzard that had no end in sight. All she really had were her instincts and gut feelings to guide her. But Andraste and the Maker proved kind to her, and the weather was surely but slowly dissipating. The wind died down, turning from whips against her skin to gentle, oddly soothing caresses—almost as if apologizing for their earlier behavior. For the first time in a while she looked up into the sky. A vibrant cluster of stars adorned the night above her, barely a cloud in sight. It was soothing, relaxing to just get lost in the view. Yes, there was the ominous green smoky haze off in the distance, signaling that she will have to endure the closing of these breaches for many, many more months (and maybe even years knowing her shitty luck!)—but hey, at least the view of it all was oddly pretty.

She genuinely wishes she was in a position to appreciate this more. It was a nice distraction, at the very least.

The Inquisitor took a deep, steady breath. She was so, so _tired_ —she had walked for what seemed like days, months, _years._ She yearned for the comforts of a bed, of a warm fire and a nice meal. Her thoughts drifted to her companions, to her advisors, to the people that lived and took refuge in Haven. She hoped they made it out okay, and with…as few casualties as the Maker would allow. Roxanne slowly dragged her hands cross her face; cold, red fingers glided across her sensitive skin, palming at the front of her face.

To think, all this violence, this destruction all came because of the power that resided in her left hand—the Anchor. Her once bright blue eyes drifted to her left hand, the Anchor now seemingly dormant, pulsing a bright green only ever so softly. She would have been content if Corypheus has just ripped it from her hand, if he just tore her flesh apart and left her there and never bothered her friends—

_‘Stop. No.’_ She shook her head with whatever energy she had left and resolved herself to move forward. Now wasn’t the time for these intrusive thoughts (again she reminded her), and she was determined not to let them get the best of her. To admit her feelings about the situation, to succumb to the fear that shook her to her very core when she was facing down a high dragon and the menace that had plagued the world with its existence… Roxanne would not lose herself to her insecurities; she had to be strong right now, had to find her people and make sure they were okay. She couldn’t know weakness in the face of danger- she was the Inquisitor, the only apparent hope people had to stop Corypheus and his plans. She can’t falter, show weakness.

Even though every fiber of her being wanted to just crumple into a sobbing, agonizing mess.

She continued her journey, one step at a time. Slow and steady; trying not to exert herself as to ensure that she didn’t pass out unexpectedly, despite the exhaustion that was creeping up her spine. The Inquisitor began to trudge up a sudden incline, lifting her legs and sucking in a breath with every tingle of tightening muscles that sparked in her body as she waded through knee high snow. At the pinnacle of the hill she found what looks like the remains of a makeshift camp- a small bundle of charred logs was surrounded by a small circle of rocks. It looked recent, or, well, about as recent as something could appear considering the horrendous blizzard that plagued the area just a moment ago.

_‘Someone…was here recently…’_ Roxanne’s thoughts were a hazy, cloudy mess. Her body seemed to be slowly shutting down on itself, and despite how happy she was at the discovery, it was almost completely offset by her brain urging her to light the logs and curl up into a nice, long sleep. _Once again_ , she found herself having to push the thought away, shaking her head again as she looked around. The path seemed to continue farther north, between a small valley that formed between two towering mountains. The Inquisitor didn’t have much going for her in terms of direction and guidance, but her gut told her that maybe she would find something if she just went further into the valley. Despite the weariness in her body she moved forth, grunting and groaning as she lifted each leg slowly through the field of snow.

It was a slow endeavor, the exhaustion running its course and creaking up her spine like a buzzing fly. Her eyes fluttered in a desperate attempt to stay awake, and no matter whatever pep talk she muttered under a tired breath, it was becoming obvious that if she didn’t find something soon then the snowy ground would be her resting place for the night. And she _really_ didn’t want to collapse on the ground.

After another short eternity of walking up what was probably only a short ten-minute walk, she had made her way through the short valley. Roxanne rested against one of the mountains and press her shoulder against the cold, hard surface. Her eyes scanned the view around her until they settled on a large, glowing light in the distance. She couldn’t make out much of the blurry scenery with her eyes struggling to stay open, rapidly blinking and forcing her eyelids to stay wide and open. Like a moth to a flame she found herself yearning to reach that light—it meant a fire, a warm meal, a society, _people_. It could be her people! The Inquisitor sure hoped it was them, because any second now her body was going to just keel over, and it would be really convenient and nice if there were people nearby to save her before she turned into a chunk of ice.

One weary leg shifted in front of the other as Roxanne walked, determined to reach where the light was. The slope she walked down seemed to incline at an impossible angle and the Inquisitor wondered if it was her tired mind playing tricks on her, or if the lands were truly more treacherous than she thought. With each step she could feel the hitching in her breath, her body exhausting its resources as it continued to walk and move. She was getting exhausted, and she realized that she wasn’t going to last as long as she originally planned—the Inquisitor urged herself forward with more fervor in her steps, desperate, _wanting_ —

Muscle tensed and twisted, and she fell to the cold, soft ground. Through gritted teeth and empty lungs she yelped out in pain, wincing as she found herself splayed on the ground. Arms reached out to her legs but gave out; the small lift of her body inwards was enough to collapse her back onto the ground again in pain. Her body couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t walk another inch without rest, and it was going to force it upon her if it had to. Roxanne was thoroughly against the thought of course, but her body resisted the requests to move, and it laid there in the snow. The snow coiled around her body, the creeping coldness seeping through her clothing and to her skin once again. She shivered, goosebumps rising on her skin. Her eyes drifted and closed, despite the voice screaming in her head to open them and to get up and keep moving; exhaustion prevailed.

Since the Chantry exploded and she was suddenly made the leader of the Inquisition, putting her life on the line for a cause that was bigger than her, maybe even bigger than all of those that stood by her. As the cold wrapped itself around her core, as the snow enveloped itself softly around her like a comforting embrace, as the stars shone brightly above her—she was finally, finally at peace.

* * *

They had maps—lots of maps, actually. Maps of Thedas, maps of Ferelden and Orlais, but not of these parts of Haven. What explorer really has the time to lay down every specific parts of mountains when normal people would never bother to cross them? Despite Josephine and Leliana’s collective efforts of laying and scrutinizing every inch of parchment they had, there was nothing about the mountain they had retreated to—finding Roxanne would be an endeavor in of itself. The duo tried not to dwell on the fact that they were at the mercy of nature and time, and returned to Cassandra and Cullen, who were making small talk outside the tent.

“Any luck?” Cassandra rubbed her gloved knuckle against her chin, weary eyes resting on the two advisors as they exited the tent.

“Unfortunately, no. To no one’s surprise, cartographers don’t make a habit of charting mountains very intimately.” Josephine said, huffing and crossing her arms.

“The audacity of these map makers.” Leliana placed a gentle hand on her companion’s shoulder.

“Quite so!”

The four of them shared a small chuckle—perhaps the first true moment of respite that they’ve had since they’ve all arrived and made camp. The moment was followed by a newfound resolve, determined to find the Inquisitor and bring her back to the camp. They armed themselves with their gear and moved north, backtracking up the path the people of Haven took to arrive to their settlement. While the settlement was most likely safe from any harm, they were in completely unknown territory and it was possible that The Elder One's army could appear out of nowhere had they been tracking them. It was best to be on high alert until they can find the Inquisitor.

Stars shone above them, a quiet and peaceful view to compensate for the chaotic day that it had been. They were grateful for the stillness as they made their steady approach up the mountain, not speaking much and scanning the area every so often. Cullen lead the approach, followed by Cassandra and Josephine, with Leliana on the rear.

“I think I underestimated how badly it snowed when that blizzard was around…” Josephine said, trudging through the snow with a frown on her face. “What I would not give for more comfortable shoes!”

Leliana laughed, jumping a few steps forward in the knee-high snow to give her companion a pat on the back.

“I will send my agents to remind the Elder One to be mindful of his interruptions.”

“Ugh, please do. All this cold shall be the death of me!”

Cullen gave a small chuckle as the two ladies spoke, unable to smother the smile that pulled on the corner of his lips as he led the group forward. They walked for a few more minutes when something near the entrance of the valley caught the commander’s attention. He stopped and squinted his eyes, desperately trying to make sense of that which stood a few dozen feet away in front. Cassandra moved to his side, also trying to take a gander at what Cullen saw. Eyes squinted and focused to the sight ahead, taking a few steps forward a bit to inch herself closer for clarity. It looked like—

“It’s her! Inquisitor!”

A sharp inhale escaped her lips as she forcefully bolted herself forward, legs scrambling suddenly. _Inquisitor_. It was her; she knew it! Despite the thick snow, despite the heavy armor she wore, despite the sharp incline of the mountain, Cassandra hustled herself faster than she’s ever run before; excitement flourished through her chest and a worried smile formed on her lips as she ran towards the Inquisitor. It felt like years of stress and worry lifted from her shoulders as she saw the Inquisitor shuffle down the mountain— _and felt her stomach drop as she watched that very same leader collapse suddenly into the snow with no signs of getting back up_.

The stress and fear reared back into her and she felt like she had slammed into a wall—harder now did she run; her whole being focused on reaching her leader. Cassandra threw herself to the ground to Roxanne, worried eyes gazing and looking over her companion. Oddly enough this was the most serene and relaxed the knight had ever seen the Inquisitor, her still face betraying the immediate threat of freezing to death that the Inquisitor was to face. A gloved hand carefully, softly reached out to Roxanne; fearful of disturbing, breaking her. Even through the thick fabric Cassandra could feel the violent cold of skin from the contact—how long was the Inquisitor walking around for? How did she survive the avalanche?

‘ _Maker’s breath…’_ A million thoughts clouded Cassandra’s head, but only one of those strings of thought was coherent enough to echo in the depth of her mind. The advisors (finally) made their way towards her, Cullen and Leliana kneeling alongside the knight. Josephine stood behind them, staring at the Inquisitor with worried, wide eyes.

“I-is she—?” Josephine muttered, a shaking head covering her mouth—that hitch in her voice from earlier returned, and something about it just made this whole situation feel much, much worse. Cassandra shook her head.

“No. I don’t think she’s dead just yet.”

They stared at Roxanne’s body for a few more moments, watching the agonizingly slow rise and fall of her body. Breath and life still stirred in her body. Thankfully.

“We have to get her back to the camp, no use just watching her here.” With one grand sweep Cullen hoisted the Inquisitor into his arms, carefully adjusting his grip as he cradled her gently in his arms. Leliana and Cassandra eased him up to his feet, and the four of them briskly walked back to camp.

The commander walked with attentiveness, holding Roxanne like a prized object, a fragile ornament that would shatter at the slightest touch. And she _was_ —she was the Inquisition’s most prized object; their light at the end of the tunnel. The gear that shifted the whole organization into place, that kept it running smoothly and without worry. A strong, sturdy, consistent reminder of what they had done so far, of all they have accomplished—and what they yet have to do. To have her back, to know that she yet lived and that she had come back to them brought an unspoken joy that would not reach their faces; now unfortunately was not the time to celebrate. Note yet.

Instead the dogged determination would see them reach the camp, uninterested in the townspeople opening the flaps of their tents, standing up and murmuring among themselves as the group rushed Roxanne’s body to an empty tent.

They townspeople gathered around, all eager to see the commotion, to see what prized jewel commander Cullen had brought to the camp at this time of night, flanked by the other advisors and Cassandra. Mother Giselle had made a slow effort to reach the group, weaving through the crowd to reach the front—a nearly impossible effort by the sheer volume of people that had made their way toward the very same tent, squished and pushed together like a flock of eager, hungry wolves. It was only by the Maker’s will that Leliana reached out to the Revered Mother with a protective hand, pulling her from the crowd and into the tent where Roxanne and Cullen were. When the flap to the tent gently eased open, the crowd stilled, nosy and desperate, hopeless eyes peered into the world beyond their reach.

“ _The Inquisitor has returned_!” Shouted one man near the front, waving his arms as if to gather the sleeping Inquisitor’s attention onto him and the crowd. The effect of the man’s declaration rippled like an ebbing tide, flowing and cascading, reverberating. Her name was ushered and rocked through the crowd like a prayer, an anthem that lifted their spirits and brought forth their beliefs. Fervor ran through the blood and bones of the once weary people, of those who had lost hope, those who watched their hero fall and perish beneath the mountains. And yet, she returned to them, returned to her people like a shepherd returning to her flock. They stirred there, standing patiently with bated breath as if awaiting divine confirmation that it was in fact their beloved Inquisitor, she who sacrificed herself to protect the people of Haven, she who sealed the rifts in the sky with determination to right the wrongs of the world.

With Cullen's departure from the tent with a wry, crooked smile, the people knew. They did not need to heed his declaration, did not need to hear the words utter from his lips and have it hang in the air and ring through their ears. They knew. They knew, they knew, _they knew_.

**The Inquisitor had returned to them**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting in media-res seemed like an easy choice for some reason, yet I didn't realize how difficult it would be to write some of the more mundane parts of this entire chapter :) It was a challenge for sure, and there are parts that felt dry, but overall, I'm quite fond of how I started this. I look forward to writing more, that's for sure! 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and hope everyone's new year has started well!
> 
> PS. Chapter names & tags are still very difficult for me, heh.


	2. when hope has abandoned me, i will see the stars

It had been a few days since the remaining survivors of Haven arrived at the fortress that was Skyhold—a place that Solas knew about and was kind enough to help lead the survivors of Haven to. Roxanne had been dividing her time with exploring the Hinterlands and helping wherever she could in Skyhold; her days were long and stressful, her sleep fitful and short. It was obvious from the bags that formed in her eyes that she had most certainly seen better days—maybe the Maker will be kind and give her some time to rest one of these days. But still, she carried on best she could, ignoring the consistent weariness that had driven itself into her body, making sure she was attentive to the needs of everyone in their base. Every moment Roxanne was awake was spent moving around from place to place, but she was certain that soon things would fall into a stable routine and maybe, _just maybe_ , she’ll finally have a day or two to relax and do something for herself, and not anyone else.

She hoped, at least.

It was morning, and the Inquisitor and her advisors had fallen into a routine of their own: the morning war table meeting. Back in Haven everyday brought news and something different to the table, from ally reports, to the status of the army—but with Skyhold being the primary focus (and making sure everyone in Thedas knew the Inquisitor still lived), news was slow and, well, _boring_. But it was news, nonetheless. Josephine had been working closely with the workers and the rebuilding effort in Skyhold, and every day she had updates to bring to the team. She was in the middle of said updates when she looked up from the parchment she was reading to gaze at Roxanne.

“Inquisitor?” Josephine’s soft voice called for Roxanne’s attention, eyes drifting to stare at her leader’s face. The Inquisitor’s brows were furrowed, her face scrunched and deep in thought as she stared at the maps that laid on the war table. Her light blue eyes were drifting around to every curve and jagged edge that was painted on the parchment in front of them as if committing the shapes to memory. Or maybe she was lost in some sort of thought that she could not speak of? Whatever the reason, it was obvious that her attention was not given as all to her sweet ambassador, who patiently called out the leader’s name a second time (a smidge louder this time)—enough to get Roxanne’s attention for sure.

The Inquisitor blinked once and turned back to the ambassador. Whatever haze clouded her eyes drifted away, and a small apologetic smile pulled at her lips.

“Ah, apologies Josephine.” Two fingers reached into her dark brown hair, wrapping a small strand of it around her index finger and middle finger, stroking them softly and absentmindedly. “Could you repeat that?” A small blush formed on her face, suddenly becoming aware that she was wasting her advisor’s time.

But Josephine was nothing but a kind, considerate individual and was more than happy to repeat her statement to the team, her soft voice lifting as she spoke.

“Of course. Reconstruction and cleaning up of Skyhold has gone well. Our messengers have been released into Ferelden and Orlais earlier this week and our allies have pledged their assistance. I’ve already _politely_ persuaded them to make good on their word, I can assure you. We should hopefully see the fort back to its old self before we know it.” She marked the end of the last sentence with a smile, knowing very well that her words were held in high regard all over Thedas. Josephine could convince a rock to draw blood if she so wished; her words carried the weight of years of diplomatic training and sweet honey touched words that attracted only the highest of bidders.

Roxanne nodded. It was good to know that things were going so well. She hoped that their allies would help send more workers to their cause—Maker knows they’ll need every worker they can get to get this massive fortress back into working condition.

“Thank you, Josephine.” She turned to the next advisor, the commander of their armies: Cullen. “How fares our soldiers?”

“Morale is getting better now that we have a stable base.” Gloved hands rested against the pommel of the sword that rested against his hip. “We’ve been primarily concerned with securing the Frostback Mountains and making sure it’s truly as safe as it has been. Besides the occasional stray wolf, it doesn’t seem like these mountains will be a hazard to us.”

Another nod from the Inquisitor. “Thank you, Cullen. Any plans to start up a proper training regime?”

Cullen dragged a hand a crossed his chin, considering her question. Brown eyes drifted from her to the table for a moment, before returning to her gaze.

“I’ll gauge the status of our men once the mountains have been explored and see if we can start something up. After Corypheus attacked, our army has downsized…considerably. It will take some time to recover, but our men are nothing but determined.” A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Maybe we can persuade some of those _wonderful allies_ of ours for more soldiers…?”

The noise Josephine made was a combination between a gasp of horror and a groan of annoyance. She flickered through the massive stack of parchment that rested on her clipboard, muttering to herself all the while as she looked for an answer to the commander’s question.

“I know you care not for nobles, but I think what you ask of me might be _too_ much, my dear friend.” The ambassador finally flipped to a few loose pieces of parchment that might hold the answer that she was looking for, pulled them out of the pile, then placed them at the top of her stack. Leliana decided to jump into the conversation, tilting her head and looking to her flustered friend’s face.

“You know Josie if you need my agents to help you—”

“Ah, no, no, _no!_ We cannot just throw your agents to every court in Orlais!” Josephine’s shoulders sagged as if the intensity of the suggestion crushed her with a force of a thousand boulders. “Some things require a bit of a _delicate_ touch.”

“I wouldn’t quite call these _delicate_ times, Josie.” Leliana said, pressing a finger against her chin. “We need to make sure everyone knows the Inquisition still stands as strong as we did before Corypheus attacked. Actually, no _stronger_ now do we stand.”

“Isn’t that the point of making sure our armies stand as strong as they can?” Cullen interjected, suddenly interested in the conversation now that it wasn’t about those damned nobles.

Leliana rested her hands on her hips, considering Cullen’s question. “Hm, I do suppose that is a fair point _._ ”

“I’m not sure how many of our allies are willing to part with their armies with how recent the attack on Haven was.” Josephine pressed her lips together in thought. “If we _did_ want to try and inquire, it would take many a favor to win that privilege.”

Cullen sighed. “Yes, just what we need; _more waiting_.”

“Believe me, if I could expedite this, I would love to. Trying to work around Orlesian noble’s customs is like trying to ask the tides to stop coming into the shores.” The ambassador let out a sigh.

Leliana spoke again, looking at the Inquisitor all the while. “What do you suggest, Inquisit— _ah_.”

The three of them look over to their lovely leader: eyes closed, and knuckles pressed against her cheek. Dark eyes—most certainly from days of sleepless nights—betray a peaceful, calm face. It’s hard to tell if she’s sleeping or not since she’s somehow standing and not sprawled over the war table. With a small sigh Cullen walked over to her side of the war table, arms crossed as he approaches her.

“Do we know if she’s ill?” He says when he’s closer to her.

“No, but Cassandra has mentioned that she seems to be exerting herself lately. No doubt everyone’s been vying for her attention.” Josephine said, sighing as a small frown on her face.

“There has been…much to do since we’ve comes to Skyhold.”

“It would be unwise of us to tell her to stop wandering around Thedas and spreading the Inquisition’s name when she’s in this state…” Leliana says, placing her hands on her hips. “…and yet we can’t do nothing when there’s still a plethora of rifts still out there in the open.”

Cullen shakes his head in frustration. “But we can’t have her parading around like this, she ought to be resting and—”

“I’m _fine_.” Roxanne’s voice interrupts her advisor’s conversation, eyes rapidly fluttering open, staggering a bit as she worked her body back into reality as Cullen’s hand reaches out to steady her. She mutters a word of thanks, blushing both from his sudden (but appreciated) gesture, and because she’s once again embarrassed herself in front of her advisors. “I will rest once Skyhold isn’t in disrepair and we’re all more settled in. Like Leliana said, there’s too much at stake right now.”

“Are you sure, Inquisitor? It could take a few more weeks for us to settle in proper.” Leliana’s voice was stern now, the voice she usually reserves for her agents. “You shouldn’t be neglecting your own health for the rest of our sakes.”

‘ _If only it was that easy.’_ An eye twitched in disagreement, but the Inquisitor did not voice the thought. She was consistently torn between believing she was doing too little for her people and those of Thedas, willing to toss herself into any danger if it meant proving her worth to the Inquisition, and to everyone around her. Her lack of self-worth would inevitably be the death of her, this she knew—but for now, all she could do was grin and bear it. Roxanne was ever so weak willed, but she had faith that the Maker thrusted her to the Inquisition for a reason, and she would devote herself wholly to the cause.

“…I’ll do my best, Leliana.” It was all she could muster as a response. The Inquisitor trembled slightly in place, unsure of what else to say to them. Her mind was filled with all sorts of thoughts to say to herself, but to them? No, there wasn’t much that she felt she _could_ say to them, as much as she felt that she owed them something for how she was acting. It was certainly unbecoming of a leader of something as big as the Inquisition to be so…out of it. Cullen’s hand rested still on the small of her back, his eyes flicked from where his hand was to her face, then back to his fellow advisors.

“Perhaps…we should call it for today.” Josephine’s calm and collected voice broke whatever tense energy was now in the air. Everyone in the room visibly relaxed at the suggestion, much to the ambassador’s relief.

Roxanne was the first to leave, uttering a sincere (if somehow rushed) thanks for the advisor’s time before slipping out and away from Cullen’s grasp and out the door. She closed it slowly and gently; she hated the way it slammed close otherwise. That whole meeting felt like a disastrous mess, and the Inquisitor was happy to have it all over with. She mentally checked the morning meeting off the nearly endless list of things she had to do during the day and strode down the hall and out into the courtyard.

There was just so much to do, and yet oh so little time.

* * *

“What do you think, Blackwall?” Cullen was shoveling book after book into one of the bookcases near his desk. The thought of having a proper system that wasn’t just “ _books that I like on the top shelf”_ occurred to him, but he most certainly did not have the time to consider something so trivial. Maybe later when things weren’t so hectic. He was currently speaking to one of Roxanne’s companions—a Grey Warden that he was pleased to know was among the ranks of the Inquisition. Despite the commander having his back turned, he knew that his guest was watching him intently and with earnest.

“Well Cullen, I’m quite flattered you think so highly of me.” Blackwall stroked his fluffy mustache, a pleased smile stretched upon his lips. “I’d be more than happy to help you however I can.”

“I’m pleased to hear that.” Cullen stepped back from the bookcase, admiring his messy and sporadic handiwork, then turned to face his guest with a smile. “I’m sure they’ll all be excited to learn from a Grey Warden. That isn’t an opportunity I’m sure most of them will have in their lifetimes.”

“Unless they decide to abandon the Inquisition and be conscripted into the Wardens, that is?”

A chuckle escapes from Cullen’s lips. “I don’t think Leliana _or_ the Inquisitor would take kindly to you doing something like that.”

“Well, we certainly won’t know unless I try, yes?” One of Blackwall’s eyebrows shoots up to mark the sentence, inviting Cullen to take the challenge. Were the commander a weaker man, he would most certainly take that offer the moment it was mentioned. But, alas, he must be the ever so responsible one when it comes to the armies, and he can’t just have a small subsection of Grey Wardens in their armies—as useful as that might be.

There is a knock at the door, and a few moments later the Inquisitor comes into view, looking a little worse for wear as usual. A smile formed on her face when she notices Blackwall standing across from Cullen.

“There you are Blackwall—I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” As she approaches them the gears in her brain seemed to start up, and she realizes that she might be intruding on a private conversation and stops mid-stride. “T-that is, if you’re done talking to Cullen.”

A sheepish grin pulls at her lips, as well as a slight blush. Blackwall laughs at the response, making Roxanne blush with a further intense shade of red.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, my lady?” The Inquisitor rubbed the back of her neck, laughing at the response.

“I told you that you need not call me that…” There was an attempt to straighten her posture, but it was obvious that being put on the spot like this was making her tremendously nervous. “I hadn’t seen you since we came to Skyhold, and I wanted to check in on you—make sure you were okay and stuff.”

“Much appreciated, Inquisitor.” He gave a small bow at the gesture. “All is well on my end—in fact, was just speaking to Commander Cullen here about assisting him in training the recruits.”

“Is that so? I think that’s a wonderful idea, Cullen.” Roxanne gave a warm smile to Cullen, clasping her hands in response. And now it was the commander’s turn to feel the pleasure of approval as a smirk lined his face.

“Thank you, Inquisitor. Everyone views the Grey Wardens as heroes—it’s a huge morale boost to have someone of Blackwall’s caliber around us.”

“Have the soldiers had a chance to train today? I could perhaps take a moment to introduce myself.” Blackwall moved to one of the windows that overlooked the courtyard outside the tower, peering down at the small cluster of soldier’s idling around.

“A few have. They might still be hanging around the stables if anything.” Blackwall nodded, his blue eyes still stuck on the group a below them. They looked relaxed, considering the hectic week that they have no doubt been experiencing. The Warden shifted back to look at Roxanne and Cullen who were patiently standing by as he stood by the window.

“Well, I might as well introduce myself to them in that case.” He stroked his beard and began to make his way out the door and gave one final bow to Roxanne before he left. “Should you have need of me my lady, you know where to find me.”

The door closed loudly behind him, leaving the pair inside the room in relative silence, save for the soft whisks of wind that gently flowed through the room from the open windows. Cullen began to shuffle back to another one of the bookshelves and began idly filling its contents. The Inquisitor slowly made her way to his side, looking at the state of his bookcase.

“Would you like some help?” She leaned over his desk and reached over to one of the boxes that contained another tightly packed collection of books. A gloved finger ran down the spines of each of them—some looked like they’ve been read hundreds of thousands of times, others looked as if they’ve never known the gentle touch of an inquisitive mind that begged to learn what stories the pages told. The commander looked back at her, idly thumbing a large novel he held in the palm of his hand.

“If you wish. I’m sure you have better things you could be doing with your time.”

“Oh, not at all.” Roxanne reached into the box she was staring at and managed to pry one of the books away. She moved to Cullen’s side, bright blue eyes looking around at the bookcase in front of her. “So, where would you like me to put these?”

“Wherever you so desire.”

“Really?”

“Yes…? Is that so odd?”

Roxanne shrugged. “I figured you were like Josephine—when I helped her set up her office yesterday, she had a very extensive system for cataloging all our allies and _potential_ allies. It was all alphabetical and sorted by their location in Orlais and Ferelden, too.” She leaned up against the bookcase and stretched her arm to the highest ledge she could reach, gently slotting a book into place.

For a second Cullen’s gaze shifted from his view of books to the Inquisitor; he had never been this physically close to her and it felt like he was able to behold her for once without the prying view of the other advisors and her companions.

Roxanne looked exhausted—he knew that already just from her display at the morning meeting, but this close to her he could really see the effect it had on her. Her eyes looked clouded and dark, heavy lidded and fluttering as they tried to fight back sleep. Despite the effort she was putting in to help him, it was obvious that her body was heavy from lack of proper sleep—her movements had a weird flow to them that Cullen was worried she might collapse at any moment. But if there was anything that he learned from her is that she was obnoxiously selfless and dedicated to the cause, rivaling even his own. It was weird to see this part of himself in the Inquisitor, as he knew that it involved late nights working, missed meals and lack of sleep. By the looks of it, she was currently suffering from the latter.

Roxanne seemed to just keep pushing her body beyond limits that he thought a mortal could not possess—was this the working of the Maker after all?

“Have you been sleeping alright?” Cullen said absentmindedly, a thought turned into a whisper that he could not hold in. Roxanne turned to face him, and the commander was able to get a better view of her face. She hid her exhaustion well.

“This again?” Her words were not sullied with anger or annoyance, they were just…tired.

“ _Yes_ , this again. As your _advisor_ I do believe it’s within my duty to _worry_ about _you_.”

“Cullen—you don’t…” She fumbled around with words; hands tightly wound against one of the books that she had just put into place. The Inquisitor closed her eyes—a desperate attempt to leave this situation, clearly. “This will all pass when things are stable here. I’m _fine_ I assure you.”

“You don’t look like it. Roxanne, you know you can talk to me about anything, right?” It felt strange trying to be so casual with the Inquisitor when he’s been quite formal the past few weeks that they’ve known each other. And yet in such a short time he’s found himself growing fond of her and genuinely caring for her; it made sense, in a way. Roxanne was his superior and he only wanted what was best for her, and Cullen would do all in his power to ensure that she was well cared for. But he truly felt a worry for her that teetered on the edge of familiarity and professionalism—a kinship that flared warmth into his chest. Seeing her so out of it, so absentminded heightened the worry that was plaguing his thoughts when he saw her.

He could deal with the late nights since his position caused him to remain in the safety of Skyhold. But she was actively out in the fields, constantly amid danger and otherworldly dangers. The Inquisitor _had_ to be in the best state possible, at the peak of health.

“I…I know.” Roxanne loosened the vice grip she had on the book and relaxed her hand. Her fingers traced along the dips and curves of the book, beholding its wear and tear. The commander watched as the Inquisitor’s eyes were entranced by the book in front of her, then took a small step towards her. She stilled her body as he closed the gap between them; she knew that she would have to relent sooner or later. “I…have been uneasy since Haven fell. More than I’m willing to admit.”

“Roxanne—”

“I…We lost a lot of people. All because of me, because of this…stupid thing on my hand.” The trembling in her hands starts again, and she feels the pulse of the Anchor in her hand; steady rhythms that thrum along with her rapid heartbeat. It’s bright. It feels like it’s mocking her, and she **hates** it. “Corypheus tried to rip it from my hand. He said it was supposed to be his mark.”

“Do you wish he had taken it from you?” Cullen’s voice is soft, kind. Roxanne feels unworthy of this kindness as she bares her insecurities to him. She does not answer him, not wanting to admit the fear that shook and thrummed in her chest like a waterfall. It seems like he knows the answer, his eyes drifting from her to the floor then back to her. There is silence, and she continues.

“And…Everyone just has so much faith in my leadership. I still wonder if I’m ready; if I’m worthy. I came back to the Inquisition because…I had to. I wanted to. But now I wonder if that was a good idea.”

“You won’t have to carry the Inquisition alone. Although it must feel like it—you’ve proven yourself more than a hundred times over. I don’t think anyone else could lead us like you do.”

“Thank you, Cullen. I…I’m flattered you think so highly of me.”

“I do. You give yourself far too little credit. You could have said no to all this when Cassandra hauled you into Haven…but you persevered. No matter what impossible task we asked of you, you did so without hesitation. I cannot pretend to know what could be plaguing your thoughts but know that I will follow you until the end of this journey without hesitation.” He offered Roxanne whatever small respite she could find in his smile. “You’ve earned my respect, Roxanne. And my support, as well.”

Silence fell between the two of them once again. But this silence felt different—safe, warm, _forgiving_. It was reassuring for Roxanne to know that there wasn’t hostility in the air. She felt stubborn, felt like she was annoying Cullen. But he was still there, he wasn’t upset or angry or putting any blame on her for how she was feeling and behaving. Despite the animosity that her thoughts were directing to her, no matter how often she tried to push the thoughts away (and boy was she _trying_ ), there was a relief in having someone who was ever so patient with her.

Roxanne knew of course that the commander was nothing short of a gentleman, but one would be surprised how horrible intrusive thoughts could be. His words were a comforting embrace that she desperately needed to hear, and she was thankful that he was here with her. She never would have thought that he would be capable of such kindness, much less to her of all people. It didn’t feel forced or fake, like he was saying it as an advisor.

At this moment they were speaking as equals. As friends.

“Our escape from Haven…It was close” Her voice was soft, low. It took a second for her to gather the strength to look up at him, into his eyes. Ever so gentle and patient. “I’m relieved that you—um, that so many made it out.”

White hot embarrassment ran through her face the second the words left her lips. If a rift opened right now and swallowed her whole, she would be completely okay with that. A small chuckle escaped Cullen’s lips; half-lidded eyes stared at the Inquisitor and only served to make her fluster more.

“As am I.”

Once again silence washed over them. Roxanne continued stuffing books into place on the shelf, fingers fumbling awkwardly against leather spines as if she’s suddenly forgotten how to hold a book. She was _incredibly_ aware that Cullen was just watching her fumble around in place, and it just made her hands feel more disjointed from her body and cease to function properly. One book that she stuffed into place seemed to teeter on the edge of the shelf; Cullen’s hands reached out for it, removing it from where it stood as he looked for a better place to put it.

“You stayed behind in Haven. You were willing to sacrifice yourself to Corypheus to ensure our people’s survival. Another mark of you being nothing but a blessing to the Inquisition.” He thumbed the cover of the book absentmindedly as he spoke. “But you could have…”

“I know.”

She didn’t need to hear it, didn’t need to be reminded of it. Roxanne knew what would happen, Maker she _expected_ it to happen. The fact that she was alive was relieving (more so to Cullen, of course). The commander’s eyes flickered back to the Inquisitors; there was a fire in them, a spark that reached out to her and caught in her throat.

“Roxanne…I will not allow the events at Haven to happen again.” He reached out to her; hesitation obvious in his movements as his hand stopped midstride. Would it be inappropriate to touch her, to show a sense of physical intimacy to her at this moment? Would he ruin it by just—no, he had to. Just for a moment. A gloved hand found her shoulder and gripped it. There was reassurance in his touch, a warmth that was amplified by his intense gaze. “You have my word.”

The Inquisitor smiled at him—probably the first genuine smile she had given anyone since they arrived in Skyhold. She wished she could stay there, reveling in the feeling of his hand against her shoulder; a shield, a comfort against the world that existed outside his tower. For the first time in a while Roxanne felt completely and utterly relaxed.

“Cullen…” She began, feeling completely and utterly at a loss for words—do people say things in these moments, or just enjoy them?

The Maker seemed to have an answer to that internal thought as a loud knock against the tower’s doors interrupted their reverie, both jumping from the unexpected sound. Cullen’s hands dropped from her shoulder and Roxanne had immense difficulty hiding the noise of displeasure from the loss of warmth and contact. She covered her mouth with a gloved hand and looked away, but they both knew she made that noise happened—much to her utter dismay.

A scout entered the room and saluted both the commander and the Inquisitor.

“Apologies for the intrusion. I have word from Leliana to seek out the Herald.” Cullen waved for the scout to continue. “Our agents returned from the Storm Coast and discovered where the darkspawn are emerging from. Leliana and her agents have prepared a few maps for you and your companions to use when you are able to go investigate, messere.” 

Roxanne nodded. “Thank you—Please tell Leliana that I’ll go right away.”

“Of course, your Worship.” The scout gave another salute and bowed, walking out of the room and letting the giant wooden door slam close to mark their departure.

The Inquisitor sighed and dragged her hands down her face, feeling the gears in her head start grinding back up as she prepares a plan of attack. Next to her, Cullen shifted and moved to his desk and set the book he held onto its surface. His eyes wandered across the parchment and missives that littered his desk, as if remembering that he had other duties to attend to. A small sigh escaped his lips, slowly escalating into a chuckle. Roxanne chuckled along—not sure why but, it felt nice to laugh.

“It never ends, huh?” The commander’s gaze turned upward from the messy wasteland of his desk and up to Roxanne.

“No.” The Inquisitor’s bright blue eyes met his and smiled. “It certainly never does.”

* * *

A dagger whizzed through the air and planted itself with a satisfying crack into the darkspawn’s face, the creature letting out a deafening howl of pain. Blackwall pushed the advantage with Roxanne behind him, tightly gripping his shield as he slammed right into the darkspawn and knocked it tumbling to the ground. The Inquisitor moved quickly, reaching down for the handle of her dagger and pressing down into its skull, muscles tense as she twisted the dagger left and right in one fluid motion—the darkspawn collapsed in an instant, leaking deep black taint from its body. Her Warden companion gently (yet firmly), pulled her from the creature, not wanting the liquid to get _anywhere_ near her. Blue eyes scanned his leader and gave a reassuring nod when he noticed a big lack of blood upon her clothing.

“All good?” Roxanne stared at Blackwall as he worked.

“Aye, no taint on you as far as I can see.” He gently let go of the Inquisitor from his hold and sheathed his sword. Varric and Dorian made their way towards the pair, having planted themselves a safe distance from the hustle and bustle of darkspawn slaughtering.

The four of them had already sealed off all but one of the caves where the darkspawn have been reportedly coming from. Thanks to Blackwall’s expertise the group have been slowly exterminating the creatures from the coast without too much of a headache, but Maker’s breath this rain was going to be the absolute death of them. It was an insistent pitter-patter that smacked against them and seeped into their clothes _and_ bones. They had to watch their step and walk slowly, each of them not wanting to slip on an errant rock lest they suffer injury as they worked.

With a steady pace the group walked along the shoreline, the steady rush of the waves by their side. It would be even more peaceful and enjoyable if they weren’t being pelted by rain and on their way to clear darkspawn. There was a nice quiet that had settled into the group, with the only friendly noise coming from Blackwall whistling a tune. It was a much needed reprieve for Roxanne personally—something about being away from Skyhold during these times and getting some fresh air helped her clear her head. With every crash of wave against the shore she could feel her stress and worries slowly slip away. The sea salty air smelled so much different than the cold tight air of Skyhold—she was thankful there were camps here as it served as an excuse to just get away from everyone and just relax. Sure, the area was still pretty dangerous but the scenery was too beautiful not to get lost in.

“So, these books you write, Varric...who actually reads them?” Dorian was the first to break the silence, hands in his pocket as she started idle conversation with his companion. Varric raised an eyebrow at the mage, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Why, anyone with some taste and a lust for adventure.”

“I’ve read them for what it’s worth. Are you looking for recommendations?” Roxanne turned her head to look at Dorian, who seemed to be a bit bewildered by her response. She expected Varric to be surprised too, but It looked like he was used to the attention.

“You…have?” The mage twirled the corner of his mustache around his index finger. “I suppose even the Trevelyans had to pass their time somehow.” 

“Hey, his writing is _that_ bad you know! You got to at least read about ‘ _The Tale of the Champion’_ —that one is just…” Roxanne places her hands on her cheeks and sighs lovingly, as if recalling a fond memory of her time with the book.

“Just renders you completely speechless?”

“Look, Dorian, when we get back to Skyhold you can have my copy. I'm quite sure you'll enjoy it.” The excitement in the Inquisitor’s voice got a chuckle out of Varric, who was more than happy to watch this interaction go down.

They continued along the shoreline for a few more minutes—Dorian and Roxanne talking about some more “high class” literature (as Dorian called it) that seemed more befitting of nobles, with the occasional interjection from Varric about how those writers were snobs, miscreants, owed him a debt, among other things. As they approached the northernmost cave in the area the rain decided to finally let out, giving the team a small sense of renewed vigor and relief as they wouldn’t have to worry about a shower of rain clouding their vision.

The cave was pitch black with the rocks near the entrance damp and heavy from rain. Dorian snapped his fingers and sparked a fire to life, waving it around the crystal on his staff to serve as a makeshift torch for the group. With grips tight on their weapons they marched into the cave, taking slow steps inside with Blackwall leading the group further and further into the core of the cave. Even with the help of Dorian’s flames the cave was still an abyss of darkness that was barely pierced by the light, much to everyone’s annoyance. But as their eyes adjusted to the darkness around them, they slowly could make out movements and shadows from the corners of their eyes; senses heightened and strained as they attempted to stay alert and focused while they moved.

A noise from behind startled Dorian, causing the mage to spin on his heels to see where the noise came from. Varric gripped Bianca tightly in his hands and stepped in front of Dorian protectively.

“Y-you heard that too, right Varric?”

“Yeah I heard that, Sparkler.” Varric gritted his teeth and braced himself, the Inquisitor and Blackwall just a few feet behind him.

Low murmurs of growls rose in volume as the darkspawn encroached upon the team—one on all fours slowly approached the group and made a mad dash towards Varric. The dwarf let loose a bolt aimed right at the beast, watching the force of the impact staggering the hurlock back a few feet. It let out a guttural noise of pain and anger, baring its black stained teeth as it revved up to dash out again. Dorian attempted to gain the upper hand, sending out a burst of bright hot flames that lit the hurlock and caused it to roar out further in pain and anguish.

The intense brightness lit up the room and attracted more of the creatures like flies—Dorian waved his staff and thrusted it into the ground, summoning a sigil in front of him and Varric that shot forth an explosion of flames into the faces of the darkspawn that approached them. Behind the pair were Roxanne and Blackwall, trying to repel the forces that were approaching from their side of the cave. Blackwall smacked his massive shield against the bodies of darkspawn that were distracted on him, the mixing of cracked bones and sinew against heavy steel echoing in the chambers. The Inquisitor used the distraction to maneuver herself in and around the smaller cluster of emissaries; using her agile movements to slip in and out of the mass of bodies that were crashing onto them like a waterfall. Her hands worked quickly, daggers dipping and rendering flesh with efficiency as she brought down the creatures. Deep black ichor spilled onto the floor and on the rocks around them—a rather gruesome scene that was only heightened by the overwhelming smell of decay from the bodies.

A bolt from Bianca planted itself into one of the genlocks further back from the main crowd of darkspawn. The force was so intense that the creature was smacked against the rocky wall behind it, dangling helplessly as it slowly bled to death. Varric couldn’t help but take a small moment to laugh at what just occurred.

“Oh, Bianca that was _beautiful!_ ” He gave a gentle pat along the crossbow’s spine, preparing another bolt for firing. Dorian rolled his eyes, busy lighting the darkspawn at Blackwall’s front in a large blaze of fire.

“Come now, it was sheer luck!”

“Aw, don’t ruin the moment! _She can hear you_!”

Roxanne could help but giggle between stabs, happy to see her companions having fun while they’re fight off against otherworldly hellspawn. It would bring a tear to her eye if she wasn’t too busy finishing off the last remaining enemies on her end.

A few more whips of magic, bolts, daggers, and a few sword swipes, and the darkspawn were good as dead and on the floor. The team took a moment of respite, breathing easy for the first time since they’ve marched into the cave. Blackwall took a second to walk around the corpses to check for any stragglers or anything that looked like it could potentially still be alive.

“You think these things are smart enough to fake their own deaths?” Dorian asked, watching the Warden with interest.

“Probably not, but better safe than sorry. Don’t want to be caught unprepared.” Blackwall poked a few bodies with the top of his blade, using his boot to kick over a few just to make sure. He worked slowly and methodically, as if he’s done this a million times before.

After the quick sweep they managed to reach further into the cave and found another sight of a broken-down wall with rubble all around it. With a quick wave of his hands, Dorian was able to seal it with ease as he bound together a giant cluster of rock with his magic. Relief washed over the group as their work was finally done and they made their way out of the cave, eager to return to camp to rest up before making their way back to Skyhold.

Outside the sun shone—a rare sight in the usually overcast and rainy part of Thedas. It was as if Andraste herself was thanking the team for their job well done!

“Ah, it’s not everyday that the sun shines on the shore.” Varric said. He rubbed his chin and looked thoughtfully at the sky, as if some train of thought was working itself in his head. “You know, I could probably use this for a story…”

“Hey, if you mention me, be sure to describe my _smile_ being as bright as the sun.” Dorian flashed the dwarf a toothy smile to punctuate the point. Varric gave a noise that was simultaneously consideration and rejection—it would be a challenge to describe _Dorian_ of all people like the sun, but hey, it’s worth a shot.

“I…will take you up on that offer.”

A satisfied smirk pulled at Dorian’s face. He would never admit it but looked forward to seeing himself in one of Varric’s books. Hopefully his dwarf companion is…gentle in his words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man I did a lot more focusing on cullen and the inquisitor then I expected to, but the words just kinda threw themselves onto my page. ah well. 
> 
> it's hard remembering what exactly I did for quests since im almost 100 hours into my first play through and i'm kind of just winging it haha! I might introduce a bit of canon divergence next chapter with hawke and a very special mage that's very near and dear to both our hearts...can't wait to test the waters with the idea that I have!
> 
> thank you for your time in reading this! hope the rest of everyone's week goes well.


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